


The Darkness (Supernatural Season Eleven Theory)

by TheAwkwardUnicorn



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Basically this is a theory my friend came up with for how season eleven could play out, I really don't know what to tag this?, I repeat, Let me know if you have one I can tag it with, M/M, Minor Character Death, Minor Destiel, Other, Set after season ten, aka the first episode of season eleven, and she wanted me to write it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-24
Updated: 2015-09-23
Packaged: 2018-04-05 22:15:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4196964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheAwkwardUnicorn/pseuds/TheAwkwardUnicorn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As mentioned in the tags, this is a theory turned fanfic of what could happen in season eleven. </p><p>(This fic is set to be the end of the series but it'll be an open ending, sort of, where it's not really, like, and *end* end, and more like, 'oh there could be more possibilities after this ending.)</p><p>Okay, I know the tags says Destiel, but it's only minor Destiel because I couldn't resist. I would've made it prominently Destiel, but my friend specifically asked for this to not be Destiel. </p><p>I repeat, it's only MINOR DESTIEL.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoy! Most of the characters have smaller parts in this chapter, but I promise they'll be expanded on later, this is basically just the introduction chapter.

          The great sweeping mass of gray-black smoke dissipated as swiftly as it came, and a strong stench of sulfur filled the air. Life was still (if there was any), and the area was quiet. A black, ’67 Chevy Impala sat, stuck, in a pothole, streaks of mud splashed up onto the side of the wheel and car that would sure make the owner unhappy if he saw.

 

          Inside the car, and before the Darkness, there were two brothers. Now, after the Darkness, there was one.

 

          He sat back, unconscious, in the driver’s side, seemingly no harm from the Darkness other than the loss of consciousness. He drifted awake, his eyes groggily adjusting to the light, and he reached an arm out to his right. He startled when he couldn’t feel the fabric of his little brother’s clothes, and he turned his head, his neck suddenly stiff.

 

          “Sammy?” He looked over at the empty passenger’s seat, and his heart began to beat, faster and faster. He sat up straight, immediately swinging the door open and jumping out, despite his joints’ creeks of protest.

 

          “Sam?!” He was panicking now, frantically whipping his head around in every direction, scouring the open field for any signs of life, any signs of his brother.

 

          “SAM!” He screamed, his hands grasping the hair on the back of his head, tears stinging the corners of his eyes.

 

          His beloved brother, little-big Sammy Winchester, was gone.

 

          He was alone.

 

* * *

 

 

          Sam awoke with a start, the cause of which: unknown, and he sat up. The room, or was it a room? He wasn’t sure, it was… dark. Unusually dark, but… light at the same time, light enough so that he could see to the tips of his toes but no further.

 

          “Dean?” He whispered, unsure of where he was, or if his brother was even there. He stood and ran his fingers through his long hair, brushing out whatever tangles had appeared.

 

          “Dean?” He called again, more frantically this time, and a faint ringing sounded in the back of his head. He poked at his ears, desperate to pick out the pesky ringing before it got to bothering him any longer, but it stayed. He shook it off and moved forward to walk around the empty expanse of darkness.

 

          “Dean! Dean are you here?!” No answer.

 

          “Dean!” _B-thump b-thump b-thump._ His heartbeat, combined with the growing ringing, began to cloud his hearing.

 

          “DEAN!” He screamed, and he fell to his knees, clutching his ears as the ringing grew and grew and grew, until it was loud, white noise.

 

          “DEAN!” He screamed and screamed until his throat was raw, until his tongue was dry. He lay on the ground now, tears rolling off his cheeks, mixing with the- ash? - on the ground.

 

          Where was he, where was his brother? What had happened to them?

 

* * *

 

          _Red._

 

_Red, metal, blood._

 

          It was all a blur in Castiel’s head. He came to full awareness in the same room as before, but the sight before him was different, much more gruesome.

 

          He let go of the angel blade he was grasping _(He didn’t remember pulling it out)_ , and he stumbled a few steps back, his eyes wide in horror.

 

          _Oh no_.

 

          At his feet, laying in a pool of blood, cold, pale hands grasping the blade piercing his stomach, was the King of Hell himself.

 

          Castiel had killed Crowley.

 

          _No. No, how- how did I..?_

 

          He stood there, staring down at the body. He didn’t know what to do, what was he supposed to do? He had killed Crowley, King of Hell, ally to Sam and Dean Winchester, albeit a little untrustworthy at times.

 

          What was he to do? Where should he go?

 

          The lost little angel, alone.

 

          He had to run.

 

* * *

 

          Silence falls over the entirety of Hell as a blade gets shoved into the abdomen of the king. Millions of demons fell to their knees, unknowing of the next step, the next plan.

 

          A redheaded woman in a long, black dress strutted down the long hallway of the Hell castle that once belonged to the king.

 

          “Well don’t just stand there! Go make your deals! Collect souls! Just because my son is dead doesn’t mean business is shut down!” She commanded in her Scottish accent, and took her place upon the throne at the front of the room. _“Mommy’s home.”_

 

* * *

 

          Dean Winchester stood against the side of the Impala, beer bottle in hand, and he stared off at the field in front of him.

 

_Sammy’s gone; the Darkness probably took him, and I have no idea how to get him back, so why not down a few beers, huh?_

 

          He spared a glance at the building to his left, where, hours before, he had killed the one and only horseman of Death.

 

          _But that wasn’t him, was it? It was just the Mark, right? That’s what everyone kept saying. It wasn’t him, it was the Mark, right? Right?_

 

          But even so, it still felt like him. It felt… right, like he was… meant to do it, meant to kill him.

 

          _So why did he feel so guilty?_

 

          A flash of white light distracted him from his thoughts, and suddenly he was in a different place entirely.

 

          He stumbled backwards and fell, his balance completely thrown off by the change of location and disappearance of his baby.

 

          “What the hell?” He exclaimed, frantically looking around for any sort of explanation. And as he turned to the left, there it was: sitting on a white leather loveseat, feet propped up on a white coffee table, and dressed in a white housecoat, tee shirt and boxers.

 

          “Chuck? What?! What the hell is going on?!”

 

          “Relax, Dean everything is _fine_.” Chuck stressed, flicking his hand to the side. Another loveseat appeared across from him, behind Dean, with a loud _thump_ , and Dean swirled around to look at it, then back to Chuck again, staring at him with comically wide and confused eyes.

 

          “Chuck, seriously, wha-“

 

          “Just sit down and I’ll explain!” Chuck cut him off, flicking his hand forwards, and Dean immediately flew backwards onto the loveseat with a surprised _“oof”_. He nodded and looked at Chuck expectantly, with a bit of annoyance.

 

          “Okay, so, uhm, the Darkness has your brother.” Chuck forced an awkward laugh, and Dean looked like he was about to explode, so Chuck quickly resumed his speaking, “But! Don’t go all Hulk on me, I know a way we can get him back and stop the Darkness.”

 

          Dean shifted forward, leaning his elbows on his knees, and looked at Chuck with widened, slightly hopeful eyes. Chuck stared at him for a few seconds, seemingly lost in thought, before Dean began to fidget, “Well don’t just sit there!”

 

          “Right, right, sorry! Uhm, okay, so, you know how you just killed Death like a few hours ago?” Dean nodded, “Well, yeah, he’s dead so we kinda need a new Death.” Chuck rubbed the back of his neck nervously.

 

          Dean gave him a look of disgust mixed with confusion, and if not for the current situation, Chuck would have laughed at it, “What, so does this mean I have to become.. Death?” He shuddered and audibly swallowed, “No offence, but the last time that happened, it didn’t quite work out.”

 

          Chuck chuckled and shook his head, twisting his fingers around the ever-present bottle of alcohol in his hand. ( _Even in- wait, where am I?)_

 

          “Wait, where are we? And why am I talking to _you_ of all people?” Dean asked harshly, staring at Chuck with that same look of disgust and confusion.

 

          “Oh, yeah, forgot to mention that. Well, we’re in Heaven-“ Dean snorted, “-and I’m God.” Dean’s eyes widened considerably and he burst out laughing, but after a few moments, realizing that Chuck’s expression was still as serious as before, he stopped, wiping his eyes and coughing awkwardly into his hand.

 

          “You’re serious?” He asked, a flash of anger appearing in his eyes. “You’re really fucking serious?! So, all this time when the fucking _apocalypse_ was going on and we needed your help, you were on Earth this whole time, writing fucking _books_?!” He was standing now, gesturing largely with his arms, nostrils flaring with rage.

 

          “Hey, listen-“ Chuck took another swig from the bottle of alcohol, “-I didn’t poof you in here just so you could yell at me about a problem that _you’ve already fixed_.”

 

          Dean sucked in a breath of air and sat back down, and buried his face in his hands, letting out a long-suffering sigh. He composed himself and blinked away the momentary foggy vision and nodded at Chuck to continue.

 

          “Anyway, as I said before, we need a new Death. Of course, another Reaper would be a likely candidate, but all of the highly skilled ones are dead. Thanks for that by the way,” He added sarcastically, “So naturally, you are my next choice.”

 

          “Wait a second, hold on. When I killed Death, his scythe disappeared into smoke with him. How am I supposed to kill anyone without it?” Dean asked, brows furrowed in confusion. He can’t recall any other way he could become Death without- _oh._

 

          “With this,” Chuck reached into his housecoat pocket and pulled out a small object and tossed it to Dean. He caught it with a clap of his hands, and when Dean peeked at the object between his palms, he chuckled.

 

          “Well, how’d ya get this? Last time I saw it, I threw it on the ground and a giant gaping hole in the ground swallowed it up.” Dean picked up the Ring from its resting place on his palm and twirled it between his fingers, examining it closely.

 

          “Eh, not exactly. You see, it and the other rings kinda served as the lock for the Cage..” Chuck trailed off and rubbed at the back of his neck guiltily, refusing to meet Dean’s eyes. Dean stiffened and glared daggers at Chuck, realizing the potential threat Chuck may-or-may-not have just released.

 

          “Wait, wait, wait. A lock for the Cage? _The_ Cage? As in the Cage we threw Michael and Lucifer into?!” Dean began to panic as he watched Chuck guiltily nod and mumble a faint “yes”. “Chuck!”

 

          “Wait, before you get your panties in a twist, I’ve got it all covered! Yes, Lucifer and Michael are out of the Cage-“ Dean let out an angry huff and Chuck raised his hands up and waved them in defense, “-but they can help you defeat the Darkness!”

 

          Dean stopped, hands gripping the fine hairs at the base of his neck, “What the fuck do you mean they can _help_ us? Last time we saw those sons of bitches in person, Cas molotoved Michael’s ass, and Lucifer was possessing Sam! You better have a real good reason for bringin’ them back or so help me, Chuck, I will _end_ you.”

 

          _“Like you_ can _‘end me’”_ Chuck mumbled with a scoff and Dean huffed angrily again, “Alright, I do, I do! Look, Death told you the whole story behind the archangels and the Mark and the Darkness, right?” Dean nodded and suddenly everything clicked. He freed Michael and Lucifer because they’re _archangels_ and they’re going to help.

 

          “But, wait, where are they?” He asked, panic seeping into his nerves once again, and Chuck let out a soft chuckle in response.

 

          “Don’t worry about it, they’re grounded.” Chuck joked and Dean only smiled in response. “I get it, you’re not too happy about it, but, they’re here to help, okay? And, I’ve managed to bring Gabe out of hiding, too. And you’re definitely not gonna be happy that I’ve also brought Raphael back.”

 

          Dean clenched his jaw, knuckles whitening from how hard he had balled his hands up into fists. Everything was spinning, and he was so _angry_. _Why hadn’t Chuck helped this whole time, why had he lied? Why was he trying to help us_ now _?_

 

          “Dean, I know you’re upset, I get it, but there’s just some things I can’t change. Everything that’s happened so far was set in stone long before humanity even existed. I’m sorry Dean, but that’s the way it is.”

 

          They were quiet for a long while after that, the only sounds were the slosh of the fresh bottle of whiskey in Chuck’s hand, and Dean’s ragged, frustrated breathing. He clenched and unclenched his fists repeatedly in his hair before finally deciding that it was no use fighting against anything Chuck is going to suggest, because 1) He doesn’t know where Sam is, and 2) This fucking _thing_ called the Darkness is out there and he doesn’t know what it does.

 

          “Okay,” Dean let out a heavy sigh and ran his hands down his face, rubbing at his eyes, “Okay, what’s the plan?”

         

* * *

 

Castiel came to a stop somewhere in the Cascades, Northern Washington, he presumed. He took a rest beneath a large pine tree and curled his knees up to his chest, letting the afternoon sun shine on his face as he gazed up through the trees, into the baby blue of the sky.

 

          The world around him began to grow dark very quickly, and he felt a wave of ‘chills’ pass through his Grace, and he froze, just as a very dark, very ominous cloud swept across the sky.

 

          To the left of him, the dark cloud from overhead swiftly started combing through the trees, filling up every inch of it with deep darkness, advanced darkness. He felt his Grace screaming inside his vessel ‘ _Leave! Evil! Leave! Move, must leave!’_ and he did so, flickering off to a random field.

 

          The field smelled strangely of sulfur, like a whole army of demons had just been slaughtered there. To his right sat an old restaurant building and- _oh no._

 

          In the parking lot of the building sat Dean’s Impala.

 

          “Dean?” He squinted his eyes at the car, trying to get a better look inside from where he was standing. He could feel the pull of Dean’s longing, but it wasn’t anywhere on the ground, maybe not even on Earth.

 

          “Dean!” He shouted, this time up towards Heaven. Castiel is sure of it, sure he’s up there, but.. why?

 

          “Dean!” He tried to flash into Heaven to see, but a stronger entity, almost God-like, blocked him from entering Dean’s vicinity.

 

          “DEAN!”

 

          Team Free Will’s members were scattered about the world, maybe even the universe, and all three of them had no clue what to expect.


	2. Chapter 2

          Rowena swirled the wine in her glass in circles, listening to yet another demon drone on about some deal or another. She rolled her eyes and sighed, staring impatiently at the demon.

 

          He was a tall man, with short blonde hair and long, gangly legs. His posture screamed ‘anxious’ as he wrung his hands repeatedly in between themselves. He stuttered over every word and rambled on quite a bit, making Rowena’s head begin to ache with how slowly he was getting to the point.

 

          “Listen dearie, get on with it or you’re out, it’s as simple as that.” She snapped and the demon’s head jerked up at her with a quiver.

 

          “Um, I was, uh, just, uh, just wondering-“ He took a deep breath and shoved his hands into his pockets, “I was wondering if.. if I could get a promotion?” He flickered his eyes around the room, not making any eye contact with Rowena, before finally staring down at his scuffed up shoes.

 

          Rowena laughed at him, “A promotion? What for?”

 

          “Well, your highness, um, I’ve uh, I’ve collected a lot of souls lately, more than the usual, and I just thought maybe…” He trailed off with a shrug of his shoulders, and Rowena laughed again, bringing a sad frown upon his face.

 

          “Well darling, you see, I’ve got a handful of others who would also like to climb higher up the food chain, so you’re going to have to get creative here.” She took the last sip of wine from her glass, and with a few muttered words, the glass was refilled.

 

          “Y-yes, yes ma’am.” He nodded and looked up at Rowena, a spark of _something_ in his eyes, possibly gratefulness. Crowley probably overlooked shy, stuttering demons like him. Rowena felt a slight sting of pity for the boy, and she sat properly on her throne.

 

          “What’s your name, boy?”

 

          “T-Tom. My name’s Tom.”

 

* * *

 

 

Sam picked at the fraying edge of his jeans and huffed a sigh of boredom. He couldn’t have been sitting in this dark and desolate- atmosphere, he decided to call it. That’s what fit best- for more than a couple hours, but it felt more like a couple months to him.

 

          He suddenly remembered that time passed differently in Hell, and wondered for a panic-stricken moment if that’s where he was.

 

          He decided against it though, thinking that it was too empty to be Hell. But he had a feeling that it wasn’t far off.

 

          He flopped onto his back, the ground surprisingly soft, and let out a long sigh again, dragging his hands down his face. _He was utterly_ _bored out of his mind_.

 

          He stared up at the black expanse above him, trying to make out anything in the darkness, some kind of light, _something_.

 

          The ground beneath him started to tremble slightly, and he sat up again, confused. The ringing in his ears was back again, and he groaned outwardly, but on the inside, his nerves had started to kick in again, and his heartbeat began to beat faster.

 

          The ground was fully shaking now, clouds of ash stirring up into the air around him, into his face. The ringing was louder, and he clutched at his ears, desperately hoping whatever was happening would stop. Last time, all that had happened was the ringing, and that had soon faded, and left him in a shaking heap on the ground.

 

          His head began to ache, and a burning sensation rose up into his throat from the middle of his chest, and he was soon gasping for breath.

 

          Flashes of orange, red, yellow, and white appeared above him in the darkness like lightning, a few bolts striking the ground next to him, startling him and making him jump.

 

          He couldn’t hear anything now, not even the ringing; it was just white noise in his head. His vision became cloudy as the ground crumbled beneath him. He was panicking, reaching blindly into the air, trying to grab hold of _something_ so he wouldn’t plummet to whatever surface was below him.

 

          A moment later and he blacked out, completely unaware of the darkness fizzling out around him.

 

          Which was why, when he awoke in the middle of a familiar field, gasping for breath, with Cas above him, calling his name, he was utterly confused.

 

* * *

 

          Castiel searched around the entire perimeter of the area, but still no sign of Dean.

 

          He sat in the field, his knees tucked up against his chest, and he stared intently at the sky. He could _feel_ him up there, but something, or some _one_ wasn’t letting him in. He pondered for a moment, that if he could sense only Dean’s longing, then Sam must not be with him. But, Sam was with him before whatever that big black cloud was swept across the- _oh._

 

          _Maybe that_ thing _got Sam?_ He thought, which was right about the time when he felt a presence approaching. He turned around and stared at the forest behind him. The presence was poking at his Grace, almost annoyingly, and then there was a dark cloud above the forest, and Castiel’s eyes went wide and he scrambled to his feet.

 

          He started backing away as the cloud grew closer, but he stopped abruptly, mouth slightly agape, eyes still wide. _“Sam?”_

 

          The dark cloud was spitting fire colored lightning, and in the middle, floating just a few feet above the forest, was Sam. Thin, broken-looking pieces of charcoal grey cloud surrounded his limp body, lowering him towards the ground, towards Cas.

 

          The cloud set him gently on the ground a couple yards away from Cas, and then suddenly, with a burst of energy, the cloud burst, sparks of lightning shooting out towards Sam. It shriveled into a tiny ball of black energy and shot straight down into Sam’s chest, and Cas was running.

 

          “Sam!” Cas skidded to a stop on his knees at Sam’s side, examining the Winchester for any possible injuries, but, to his astonishment, he was absolutely _fine._ Well, aside from the fact that a large, menacing cloud just lodged itself into his chest. “Sam! Sam, are you okay?!”

 

          Sam sputtered and gasped, his eyes wide; he was fully awake now, albeit very confused. “Cas-“ a gasp “Cas, what-“ a cough “What happened?”

 

          “Well, I think you’ve been possessed.. or.. something like that?” Sam looked at him, horrified, still coughing up his lungs.

 

          “I’ve been what?!” He looked at Cas with disbelief, and Cas looked at him quizzically, giving his signature head tilt.

 

          “I believe I have just told you.” Cas sat back on his haunches and awaited Sam’s response, that eerily emotionless, blank stare present on his face. Sam gave a frustrated sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose.

 

          “Cas… Cas, what possessed me?” The angel scrunched his nose up in thought, head still tilted to the side, opening and closing his mouth a few times.

 

          “Well, I do not know exactly what it was, but, it was… it was a dark cloud of some sort, and it dropped you from the sky. Well it didn’t exactly drop you-“

 

          “Wait, Cas, what?” Sam looked at him, bewildered, and shot up into a sitting position. “Did you say a.. dark cloud possessed me?”

 

          “Yes, I believe so.” Sam could hear his own heartbeat in his ears as a wave of panic passed through him.

 

          “ _Shit._ Cas- Cas, you’re saying… _the Darkness_ possessed me?”

 

          “The… Darkness?” Cas asks, and Sam realizes that Cas wasn’t there when Dean summoned Death, Cas wasn’t there when the Mark disappeared, _Cas wasn’t there when the Darkness was released_.

 

          “Well, long story short, after the Mark disappeared, this _thing_ called ‘the Darkness’ shot up out of the depths of Hell, and is, according to you, _possessing me!”_

 

          Cas stayed silent for a while, staring at Sam with that squinty eyed look, and Sam began to shift with discomfort. “Uh, Cas?”

 

          “So, the Darkness, what… what does it.. _do_ exactly?”

 

          “I have no idea.”

 

* * *

 

 

“Okay, so basically, I’m assigning the archangels to be your personal ‘reapers,’ I guess you could call them that, and you’re going to become Death and stop the Darkness.” Chuck explained, so nonchalantly that he might as well have been giving the weather forecast for the week.

 

Dean stared, wide-eyed and angry, at Chuck, which, had he been anyone else, might have pissed God off, but Chuck just _sat there_ , with a fucking smug smirk on his face.

 

“You’re giving me the winged douchebags who tried to kill me and my family, and you expect me to play nice with the sons of bitches?! And on top of that, I have to have my ass stuck with the _Horseman of Death’s_ ring?! Jesus fucking Christ!” Dean pulled angrily at his hair, and tried to storm away, but realized he couldn’t escape, which only made him angrier.

 

“Dean, calm down! There’s nothing you can do about it-“

 

“You know what, I’ve had enough of this ‘nothing you can do’ bullshit! Of course there’s something I can do about it! Remember the apocalypse?! How everything was meant to go to shit, but Sammy and I _fucking saved the world_ and what do we get for it? Nothing!” Chuck sat with his mouth in a tight line, his face emotionless.

 

“Dean. Right about now, your brother is with the Darkness, and he could be dead for all we know. You need to let the apocalypse go, because you know what? It’s over, it’s done. You saved the world, and now you’re going to do it again. So you either help me, or walk away, and let the Darkness destroy the only family you have left.”

 

Dean is _furious_ , and Chuck is right, and he doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t know how any of this could make sense, and why does it have to be _him_ , why does _he_ have to save the world again, why does _he_ have to get stuck with the weight of the world on his shoulders once again? Dean is _furious_ , but Chuck is absolutely fucking _right_.

 

He took a deep breath and let out an angry scream as he pounded his fist into the back of the white leather loveseat. He took another deep breath and let it out slowly, his eyes squeezed shut. _“Okay.”_

 

Chuck smiled and stood up, flicking away the furniture, and he walked over to Dean and held out his hand. “Glad to have you on board, Dean.”

 

Dean let out a weak chuckle, the frown still on his lips, and shook Chuck’s hand. “Yeah, let’s just get this started before I change my mind.”

 

Chuck smiled again, and it took Dean all he had not to punch it off his face because Chuck is  _right_ and he can’t change his mind even if he wanted to because he has no other choice.

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long (again), I've been busy with school and such.   
> Also, I got a ukulele so that's new.
> 
> The chapters from now on might be a little shorter, just because I can finish and post them earlier.

Sam and Cas sat in the abandoned bar, uncomfortable silence creeping up the backs of their necks and making them shiver. They had no new theories or information about the Darkness, and they weren’t sure if they would.

 

“So, uh, Cas?” Sam cleared his throat awkwardly, turning to face Cas, who was staring squintily at the wall behind the bar. He turned to look at Sam, eyebrows raising before his gaze fully met Sam’s. “Uh, what happened after I left? With Rowena and Crowley?”

 

Cas’s eyes widened and he stilled. “Sam, I..” He trailed off, eyes downcast and guilty. “Sam… I killed Crowley.”

 

Sam opened his mouth to speak but stuttered for a moment out of shock. “Cas.. why? Why did you..?”

 

“I didn’t… It wasn’t me, Sam, it was… Rowena she- she put a spell on me, it wasn’t my fault, I’m so sorry, Sam-“

 

“Hey, Cas it’s okay.” Sam rushed to reassure Cas before anything got out of hand, or before he disappeared, whichever came first. “It’s no problem. We’ll take care of it later, right now… I actually don’t know what to do right now.”

 

Cas picked at his fingernails and hunched over the bar, looking small and vulnerable. “I… I don’t know what to do either, Sam.”

 

They sat for another moment in silence, just preoccupying themselves with picking at fingernails and scratching at the bar top.

 

There was a rumble and a loud ‘crack’ sound from outside. Sam and Castiel jumped, stumbling off of their stools and running out the door.

 

They swiveled their heads around in all directions for a few moments before stopping on two figures in the middle of the field; one in a red over shirt and blue jeans, unmistakably Dean, and the other in all white.

 

“Dean!” Sam and Cas shouted simultaneously and they bolted towards the two figures.

 

Dean and the other man turned and waved, and Sam and Cas halted abruptly before them.

 

“Chuck?” Sam asked, panting from his earlier sprint. “What?” A breath, “What are you doing here?”

 

Chuck chuckled, giving Dean a knowing smile and a wink, and he extended both hands towards Sam and Cas. “Sam, Cas, nice to see you again.” He paused and drew in a breath, “I’m God.”

 

They both shared equally shocked expressions on their faces and Sam stuttered, opening and closing his mouth multiple times, contorting his face.

 

“You-“ He paused, “You’re… God?”

 

“Yep!” Chuck stated enthusiastically, rocking back and forth on his heels, his hands stuffed in the pockets of his housecoat.

 

“You’re God? _You’re_ God!?” Castiel poked him hard in the chest. “All this time… you were on Earth! You didn’t… You could’ve helped us, you could’ve-“

 

“Castiel, calm down.” Chuck commanded, his voice booming. “I went over this with Dean earlier. There was nothing I could’ve done. It was all planned out.”

 

Castiel was silenced, leaving the conversation open to anyone. Sam spoke up, “So, what did you say? To Dean?”

 

Dean cleared his throat, shuffling his feet and looking expectantly at Chuck.

 

Chuck stepped forward, pulling a hand out of his pocket and running it through his hair. “Well, basically, Dean is going to become Death and the archangels are going to be his minions so he can fight the Darkness.”

 

They didn’t know what they had expected, really. They didn’t know if it was better or worse than they could have anticipated, but, if Chuck- God- was here, telling them to their faces, then, it’s something to go on.

 

“Uh. Well.. Alright.” Sam said finally, breaking the awkward silence. “What do we do?”

 

Chuck hadn’t thought about that.

 

“Um. Well. I… I don’t know.”

 

“What if we help? We could fight. I’ve got my grace back, I can fight.”

 

“Cas…” Dean stepped forward, “It’s not… I don’t… I don’t want you to get hurt.”

 

“Dean, I’ll be fine. I’m perfectly capable of handling myself in a fight.”

 

Dean sighed and shook his head. “Cas, it’s not safe.” Dean knows Cas will be fine. But, he doesn’t want to drag him in and have him die. Then, it will be all Dean’s fault. With all of the weight Dean has on his shoulders, Cas’s death will bring him crashing down. Almost as much as Sam’s death will, when he dies for good.

 

“Dean. This is my fight, too.” He turned to Sam, “Sam, you said, that after the Mark disappeared, the Darkness came?”

 

Sam nodded his head, “Yeah, um, Death told us that if the Mark was gone, it would release the Darkness.”

 

“I helped get rid of the Mark. This is my fault. You don’t have to fight this, Dean.”

 

“Yes, I do, Cas. It’s what I do, it’s my _job_.” Dean stepped forward, directly in front of Cas, and jabbed a finger at his own chest. “I save the world.”

 

“Will you two just shut up?!” They turned their attention to Sam, who was standing there with an unreadable look on his face. Perhaps disgust, or disbelief. “Look, it’s not one single person’s fault. It’s a whole ton of people’s faults here. It’s Crowley’s for suggesting the Mark, Dean’s for accepting the Mark, and it’s mine for trying to get rid of it. So we can all fight this together, or leave and never even try.”

 

They were quiet for a moment. Sam stood with his hands on his hips, much like a mother scolding her kids. Dean’s nostrils were flaring, but his eyes were soft, and his fists were unclenched.

 

“Okay. Fine, okay.”

 

“Alright!” Chuck exclaimed, gripping Dean and Cas’s shoulders, “Dean, Cas, grab onto Sam. Let’s go meet your army.”

 

* * *

 

 

Everything was so clear.

 

 _‘The world is so_ beautiful _.’_ It thought, resting in a bright pool of blue and white with hints of black dark purple. It stretched its mass out, not even close to reaching the edges of the light. _‘Soon. Soon, and I will be at full power.’_

 

It reached out towards the world outside, but pulled back, weakness overcoming it. It took a lot of power to reach inside the vessel and carve a hole to dwell, leaving only a tiny fraction of Darkness left.

 

But it’s getting stronger, and the vessel is getting weaker.

 

_‘Hungry, weak, hungry, hungry.’_

 

          It waits.

 

* * *

 

 

“So, Tom,” Rowena began, setting down her glass of wine and picking up the menu that lay in front of her. “How would you like to be my assistant?”

 

They were in a small dive bar, with few people around them to accidentally (or purposefully, you can never be too sure) eavesdrop on them. The lighting was dim, and there was classic rock playing in the background- Killer Queen, Queen- and Tom choked on his water.

 

“You want me to be your assistant?” He asked, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and lightly coughing into his elbow.

 

“Well of course! Who else would I pick, dear?” Rowena smiled sweetly, like a mother would to her child. She sipped her wine, starting patiently at Tom.

 

“Oh… Well.. Well, thank you! This means so much to me, thank you!” Tom drums his fingers on the tabletop and bounces up and down a little bit in excitement.

 

“Let’s get started then, shall we?” Rowena lifts her bag up into her lap and pulls out a few jars of ingredients, fabric and rope-like thread, possibly twine, a mortar and pestle, and sets them on the table. “Hex bags.”

 

Tom’s lips twitch up into a smirk, and he leans forward, eager to begin.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just to be clear, it's the Adam version of Michael, because that's what he looked like when he fell into the pit. 
> 
> (Personally, I like the John Winchester Michael better, but for the sake of canonity, I'm going with Adam.)
> 
> Also it seems a little weird because the Darkness is possessing Sam, but don’t worry I’ve got a plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay I know it may not seem like I have a schedule for posting chapters, but I've kinda been posting them on the fourteenth of every month, and I'm a little late with that this time so woops.
> 
> (It bothers me that the layout for each chapter is different and weird, but I don't know if I can fix it. I copy and paste the chapters from a word document onto here so sometimes it gets a little messed up if I don't do it correctly.)

Chuck and the three men appeared in front of a large, golden gate, and Chuck reached into his housecoat pocket and pulled out a small, matching key.

“How does _that_ tiny thing open _that_ huge door?” Sam asked, and Chuck turned to him with a smirk as he turned the key into a lock and the gate opened, shaking the ground below them.

Once the gate was open, Chuck led them forward, into a bright atmosphere of fog that smelled like vanilla and flowers.

There was nothing to be seen for a while, as they walked through the fog, but just as Dean was about to complain, they came upon a beautiful garden, and a small cottage.

“Is this where the archangels are?” Castiel asked. Chuck nodded, pulling out another key and unlocking the cottage door. You could hear sounds of smooth jazz coming from inside the cottage, and it smelled faintly of smoke and liquor.

They entered the cottage, and the smells and sounds were stronger and louder. The front hall was painted a pale yellow color, and there were many decorations. It felt homey and soft.

Around the corner was the living room, and there sat two of the archangels. Lucifer sat in a cozy red armchair, a small glass of whiskey in one hand, the other drawing shapes in the air with smoke that dissipated after a few seconds. Michael sat across from him, spread out across a matching red couch, a book in his hand.

Lucifer turned his head towards the new arrivals, and his lips turned up into a sarcastic grin. “Well, lookie here, Michael, they’ve finally arrived. How nice.”

Michael set his book down on the table and sat up, and indifferent expression on his face. “Quite.”

“Okay,” Chuck said, a hint of urgency in his voice, “where are your brothers?”

“Where do you think they are?” Michael retorted, and he scoffed and rolled his eyes, and continued. “Gabe is out in the back by the hot tub. Raphael is most likely upstairs.”

“Hot tub? I didn’t put a hot tub in here- where did he get a hot tub?” Chuck rushed, and Lucifer snorted a laugh.

“He’s an archangel, dumbass.” Lucifer said, and Chuck turned to him with a glare.

“Don’t make me smite you.”

“It’d be better than this.” Chuck glared again, but this time, Lucifer payed his attention to drawing smoke shapes in the air again.

Sam and Dean stood in the entryway, gaping, while Cas stood with an indifferent expression. Dean turned to Sam and mouthed, “Wow.”

Chuck turned and walked back out into the front hallway, and the Winchesters and Castiel followed.

They walked out onto the back patio, and there was the buzzing sound of a hot tub, and soft voices. Gabe was turned away from them, and Raphael sat across from him, looking unusually happy.

Raphael looked up, mid-laugh, to see the four men in the doorway, and his smile faltered but remained, and he raised his hand into a tiny wave.

Gabe turned around, his brows knitted together and a confused frown on his face, but was replaced by a wide, toothy grin. “Well, if it isn’t the three Musketeers!”

Sam and Dean gave uncomfortable smiles, while Cas’s expression stayed the same- uninterested and distracted.

“So, dad.” Gabe begun, twisting around to climb out of the tub, Raphael following his lead. “What exactly is our plan here? I mean, we don’t know where this thing is, and, we couldn’t even kill this thing last time so how would we do it now?”

Chuck pondered, opening and closing his mouth over and over again, and Gabe sighed when nearly two minutes had gone by and Chuck was yet to come up with an answer.

“How about..” Sam paused. “I think we should create a spell to keep it at bay, like the Mark. Maybe even destroy it.”

“I think that’s a great idea, Samsquatch! But, like I said before, we don’t know where this thing is!” Gabe set his hands on his hips and stared, his eyes like daggers, and Sam swallowed heavily and shifted in place.

“I think… I know where it is, Gabriel.” Castiel said, and Sam’s heart skipped a beat. A small burning sensation crept its way into his throat, and a sharp pain shot upwards from his chest to his head. He groaned and put the heels of his palms to his temples and squeezed his eyes shut.

All eyes turned to Sam and Dean, Cas, and Gabe ran to his side.

“Sammy what’s wrong?” Dean.

Sam sunk to the floor and the trio followed. “I- I don’t know.” He lied.

Cas glared at him, and suddenly Sam could hear his voice in his head. _“Sam, I know you’re lying. I have to tell them.”_

Sam shook his head, and Cas rolled his eyes. The ringing in his ears was back again, and he covered his ears with his hands and let out an exclamation of pain.

“Sam!” Dean shouted, and he turned around and looked at Cas, who was now giving Sam a death glare. “Cas?”

“I’m sorry Sam, but I have to.”

“What? Have to what?”

Cas sighed. “The Darkness is possessing Sam.” He says, and it’s quiet for a split second before Dean starts laughing, and then everyone else is at least chuckling, including Michael, who had arrived a little bit after all the commotion had begun.

“Guys stop, he’s telling the truth.” Sam said, and Dean stopped and turned to Sam again.

“What?” His expression was incredulous.

“I saw it, Dean. It’s possessing Sam. Or at least, inside his soul.”

A somber silence fell over the group, and Dean ran his hand down his face. Chuck took a long sip of alcohol.

“Well. Shit.”

 

* * *

 

 _“Just a little farther.”_ It stretched out to the farthest reaches of the bright light but still, not enough to reach the edge, to pull it under, to drown it in the Dark.

It sparked and flamed, burning and burning, particles of ash shooting into the tiny fraction of light, and the vessel twitched, recoiling at the burning inside its soul.

It can see through the vessel’s eyes.

A man with bright green eyes and soft freckles spoke, too loud _too, too loud_. It flamed bigger and the vessel recoiled again.

It heard, from outside, its name, and it stopped and pulled back.

_“Must wait. Too bright, too loud, too small.”_

 

* * *

 

 

“Rowena, how, exactly, did Crowley die?” Tom asked, sipping from his wine glass. He leaned back in his throne, tossing a hex bag into the air, catching it, and tossing it again.

“Oh, I put an attack dog spell on an angel and he killed my son for me.” She smiled, refilling her glass with a snap of her fingers.

“But,” He took a sip, “why kill him? I mean, I get the whole ‘queen of Hell’ thing, but, why would you want to be queen, huh? Why would you want this?”

She stopped and looked at Tom, more so _stared_ at him. “Because I’m powerful. More powerful than my wee demon of a son, and I _deserved_ this position.”

And with that, Tom said nothing more, and the silence was overwhelming.

 

* * *

 

 

“What are we supposed to do about this?!” Dean shouted, pacing around the living room. “What’s it even doing? For all we know, it could be killing him!”

“Relax, Dean. If it is killing him, and we try to get it out, who knows what kind of damage we could do.” Chuck explained, settling into a chair and propping his ankle up on his knee.

Dean ran a hand down his face and groaned, then stepped up to the wall, raised a fist, and punched. “Fuck!”

“Hey! Chill out, man!”

“Well I’m sorry, but I’m really fucking frustrated!”

He sat down on the couch and squished his palms against his eyes. He looked up and his eyes met Cas’s, and he _felt_ Cas’s reassurance, even from all the way across the room, and a little bit of tension escaped from his shoulders.

“Okay, I’m good.” He mumbled. He didn’t miss the immediate softness in Cas’s face. “So what are we gonna do? I mean, we can’t risk trying to force it out of Sam.”

“Well, we could at least try and see what’s going on. Y’know, take a peek at Sammy boy’s soul.” Gabe pushed his hair back behind his ears and stepped forward to stand next to Sam, and the crew of angels, ex-angels, and humans was almost in a circle.

“That’s… actually not a bad idea.” Lucifer shrugged his shoulders, and everyone else, including Sam, muttered some form of agreeance.

“Alrighty then, let’s see what kind of party is going on in Casa del Sam.” Gabe mimed pulling rubber gloves over his fingers and stepped forward, but Michael held an arm out to stop him, and he stumbled backwards.

“Let father handle this, please.” Michael seemed annoyed, and Gabe rolled his eyes and lifted his hands up in the air.

“Fine.” He shoved his hands into his pockets, and Chuck stepped forward, setting down his bottle of alcohol and shaking his wrists out.

“Okay Sam, are you ready?” He asked, reaching his hand out, a few inches away from Sam’s chest.

“Yeah. Go ahead.” Sam nodded, and Chuck’s hand began to emit a blue glow as he moved closer to Sam’s chest. He reached in, and Sam’s face scrunched up in discomfort. But suddenly, Chuck retracted his arm with a screech, and Sam hunched over and groaned.

“Woah, what happened?!” Three people asked at once, and Lucifer, Michael, and Uriel were immediately at Chuck’s side, and Dean, Cas, and Gabe were at Sam’s.

“His soul is on _fire_. Like, almost literally on fire.”

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so I have no idea when this story is going to be updated. I don't have a schedule for posting or writing, I just write whenever my ever-present writer's block decides to let me. So, hang in there and wait patiently for an update please.


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